The Lake
by smacked lover 22
Summary: The palace lake is the only witness to Henry and Katherine's relationship as it grows from childish affections to passionate love and eventually to heartbreak.


Her words were lost on him though her voice was undeniably beautiful and had he not been such a mess of nerves he would have hung on everything which fell from her lips, her perfect rose colored lips.

"You look quite beautiful" he mumbled silently cursing himself at the realization he had interrupted her.

He was to everyone else the Prince of England, the sole heir to his father's throne but around her he felt like a stupid boy, stumbling over his words.

"Thank you" she whispered smiling as she took his hand in her own.

She was dressed in his latest gift, a gown of sky blue satin cut in the Spanish style and adorned with virginal pearls. It was a rare treat for her gowns had grown threadbare in the past few years and she would be ashamed to let him see her dressed so pitifully.

It had been a long six years following the death of her husband the late Prince of Whales but her captor, King Henry VII was off at the boarder settling some dispute with the Scottish lords allowing her a rare moment of freedom and her prince had come to her like a knight out of a fairytale and whisked her away.

It was late June in what was proving to be a beautiful summer and they strolled arm and arm by the lake side. The conversation had been lacking though there was a peaceful silence between.

"When you are queen you shall have a thousand gowns just as grand" he vowed.

"Queen" she repeated in a meek whisper.

"Why of course." he chuckled "I am a man of my word and did I not give you my word you would be my wife?"

"Yes but your father and the alliance and I thought…never mind" she whispered.

"You thought I would forsake you." he whispered, his sturdy fingers toying with her petite ones "My father is not a young man any more. He will not live forever and when I am king things will be different. I wish to be a just and noble ruler."

"And you shall." she replied "I am sure of it."

"If only my father had such faith" he muttered "but let us not talk of him."

"Harry" she whispered a lone tear welling in her right eye "I always had faith, even when my prospects were desolate. I knew you would come for me."

"And I shall forever just like a night in one of the great romances." he vowed "I love you."

He leaned in placing a chaste kiss atop her lips. It was the kiss of an innocent lacking in experience and timidly she pulled away, her sapphire eyes boring into his.

"I love you as well" she breathed, as he joyously took her in his arms.

The second kiss was not quite as innocent and as their lips fell into a passionate rhythm he vowed to himself the lake would be their place, their secret haven to escape all the treachery of court.

The Queen of England squealed with delight as she was ripped from her horse and Henry's lips found hers, breathlessly devouring them. It was the third day of the court progress though the first chance they had, had for solitude in weeks.

His duties were endless, though she noted the crown had not lessened her husband's vigor and when they were fortunate enough to steal away for a few moments he was no longer the king but her lover, her friend.

"Patience is a virtue" she teased as he set her on the ground.

"God Kate" he moaned "does Wolsey never tire of hearing his own voice. I thought we would never escape."

She giggled kicking off her satin slippers with no regard for the cost and gathering her skirts as she dipped her naked toes in the water.

She felt his breath on her neck as he enveloped her small frame in his arms. There was a moment of perfect silence as the water flowed over her bare feet and she felt Henry's lips, trailing kisses over her bear flesh. Her lips pulled in a smile for the past few months had been the happiest of her life.

In the dreary days of her widowhood she had never lost faith but even her girlish fantasies could not compare to the sheer bliss of being wed.

Henry was in every aspect the perfect husband, devoted more so than the average man and completely consumed by adoration.

The couple had fallen into an idly routine, settling comfortably into their royal duties. Being queen came to her as natural as breathing though she still savored the rare moments in which they could be truly alone.

"They say King Louise is in need of a bride." he commented "I think England could use a new alliance."

"Harry your promise" she cried dropping her jaw in mock horror.

"My promise" he stammered.

"You said we would not talk of politics" she chided teasingly.

"Yes of course" he whispered "and how could I even think of a French alliance when I am in the presence of my beautiful wife. Forgive me gracious lady. I humbly beg your forgiveness."

"You are insufferable" she giggled, shrieking as droplets of water landed upon her skirts.

She splashed back, vainly for he was of superior strength and within moments threw his drenched wife over his shoulder.

"No" she cried in delight "careful darling. We must be careful."

"Careful" he repeated, setting her down as she her skirts fell about her in the water. Her red curls had fallen from their snood and cascaded messily over her shoulders.

"Yes" she whispered placing her palm on her flat stomach "we must be careful."

"You are…" he stammered.

"I am with child" she breathed as he gathered her in his arms, letting out a hearty bout of laughter.

"God that is wonderful news." he cried "I am to have a son. England is to have a prince."

Katherine sat pathetically, her knees drawn to her chest like a small child as tears streaked down her face. It was February far too cold to sit by the lake, but the lake had always been her solace and at present it was the only place she could sob openly without fear a passing maid would overhear.

Her boy, her precious New Year's boy was dead. The son she had wanted so desperately to give Henry had been lowered into the frozen ground earlier that very morning and once again England was without an heir.

It was their shared sorrow and Henry had mourned with her but it had not been his failing. No one whispered of his inability to bear a healthy son for that was the duty of a queen.

Her first pregnancy had resulted in nothing more than girl, ejected too early from her womb.

It was a loss but one quickly remedied by a second pregnancy but now her poor little boy was dead and the burden was to be hers alone.

"Kate" she heard her husband's voice and the sound of his boots against the snow covered ground as she vainly attempted to dry her eyes "sweetheart what are you doing out here. You shall catch your death in this weather."

"He is dead" she whispered, her eyes welling with fresh tears "are little boy is dead."

"Hush my love" he breathed crouching to his knees and brining her to his chest.

His own cheeks were wet with tears which fell silently into her black veil for he could not let her see him cry.

He mourned for the son he lost but he knew her womb would once again be filled by his seed. He could handle the loss but what he could not handle was the sight of her, her blue eyes so burdened by sorrow and her cheeks looking as if she had wept for hours on end.

"It was not your fault." he whispered "He was a strong boy. He was a perfect boy. You did well Kate but the Lord saw fit to take him."

Her sobs increased soaking through the satin of his doublet.

"We will have more." he vowed "We are young we shall have more. Now come you are freezing."

She said nothing, allowing him to pull her to her feet and tenderly his large hands cupped her face.

"I love you." he whispered "I shall always love you."

They did have more though never the son he longed for. She bore him nine children in total though the Lord saw it fit to allow only one the gift of life.

It had been the Lord's decision though at times she felt as if Henry hated her for it, an ironic notion for if she had any say in it the royal nursery would be filled with children, strong lusty boys to inherit his crown and beautiful princess for him to dote on.

She watched their lone daughter as she frolicked at the shore line. It had been a long time since she had dared to venture to the sacred spot but upon her walk with Mary the child had discovered the lake and she could hardly deny her a few hours of careless frolicking.

Mary stood as her mother had all those years ago, her bare feet submerged in the water and her satin skirts pulled up to her calves.

A small smile warmed the queen's visage as the girl giggled, splashing in delight and she was overcome by a sudden longing. She wished she was young again and deliriously in love. She wished she could kick off her own shoes and run along the shore line while Henry chased after her.

She wished she could once again be that foolish love struck girl with such unshakable faith.

A shrill laugh pierced the air as a figure emerged from the wooded path.

She recognized the woman at once as Bessie Blount one of her ladies in waiting though breathless with laughter Bessie remained unaware of her queen's presence and suddenly a second figure emerged.

She watched, paralyzed with horror as her husband seized the younger woman from behind assaulting her neck with his hungry lips.

"I've caught" you murmured.

Katherine rose grasping Mary's shoulder with trembling hands.

"Come mi amour" she commanded.

"But mama" the toddler protested.

Henry had released Bessie as the flush drained from his cheeks despite everything he would never be so deliberately cruel as to flaunt his latest harlot before his wife.

"M-majesty" Bessie stammered falling to a curtsy.

The sudden realization of the spot and its significance washed over the king for it had been years since he had visited the lake.

The burden's of their lost children weighed heavily upon Katherine and he could not recall the last time they had snuck away for an afternoon of passion.

"Papa" Mary questioned as her mother gathered her in her arms, biting down on her trembling lip.

"Kate" he whispered but it was too late. She had turned to walk away and to turn back would be to reveal the shameful tears which trailed down her face with no regard for her royal dignity.

She had known for some time that the passion and devotion of their early marriage had faded and she was sure he took his mistresses like every other man of his rank but now she had a clear vision in her mind of his lips upon Bessie's flesh, of his hands romancing her body and of the two defiling what had once been their special place.

The tears poured from her eyes with such fervency that she could barely catch her breath. Her body wracked with sobs and she could not help but think if her mother the late Queen Isabella was alive she would die all over again, though it would not be a fever to kill her but the shame of seeing her youngest daughter disgraced, cast aside for a common whore.

She had known even if she had refused to admit it but Henry had come only an hour ago to tell her their marriage was invalid and he sought to be rid of her.

The Queen of England, France and Ireland was to be set aside for the daughter of an earl. Her beautiful little girl would be disinherited in favor of the harlot's spawn and Henry the man whom had sworn to love her and done so for the better part of twenty four years claimed she had never been more to him than a mistress.

Her eyes scanned the lake, the place where they had shared so many memories and she wondered if in those glorious moments their love had been true or if he had always had it in him to cast her aside.

The latter was unbearable to believe for she was the daughter of Isabella, not some toy to be played with and disposed of at his will.

She thought bitterly of the early days of their love, when they would frolic carelessly in the water, lay for hours under the shade of the oak.

He had been her knight in her time of need. He had been her lover in the days of her youth and he had been her friend long after the passion faded but from then on he was to be nothing to her save a memory.

The king wept as he never knew a man could weep. The final letter of his former life was clenched in his massive hand. Her delicate scroll was no longer legible. His tears had turned it into a sea of black ink though the words would forever be engrained in his mind.

It was freezing as he strode over the snow covered ground, the bitter air whipping at his tear stained face but he needed to give his former love a proper remembrance.

Before the court he must rejoice but in the peaceful solitude of their refuge he could weep openly for all he had lost.

He had cast aside his great love and to show for it he had two daughters and a nation which crumbled before his eyes. Katherine was dead. If he had it his way Anne would be dead before the summer and he would be alive, forced to live every day with the knowledge his unhappiness was all of his own making.

He had braved the cold for his court was filled with ambition and plots and in such an environment he could never tell friend from foe. The lake had known him, almost as well as Katherine had.

It had watched the awkward young boy grow into a gallant young man. It had been the scene of their first kiss. It had been their refuge on countless afternoons when they grew tired of playing the roles of king and queen. They had sat on the very banks and wept for their New Year's boy. It had watched grow and it had watched it wither and die.

He stood just before the ice and whispered into the freezing air "farewell my love."


End file.
